Faith, Love, And Remembrance.

The loss of a child, regardless whether during pregnancy, a stillbirth, or in the middle of life, is an exceptional experience. I can say, that in my experience, however limited, nothing in the world hurts worse. Its intimidating. Before I lost Bella, I never really knew what to say to people who were hurting. So i said what was standard-"i'm sorry", and i figured that would be enough. But to those who are reading this, those who are close to me, those who just don't know what to say, remember this. Say Anything. Say you're sorry. Say you care. Ask questions. Talk about it. The worst thing in the world to a grieving parent is the idea that their child, however small, may be forgotten. Say their names. On August 1st, a new movement will start. The Still Project focuses on saying it out loud. It focuses on the importance of talking about them, of forming a community, a network of parents, grieving, and allow us to talk about our Angels. Stay tuned for more updates on this movement, and how you can participate. It's difficult having a child you can't hold, but remember that once you're a parent, you never go back. Once you love, you can't undo it. Never be afraid to give life, to give memory to something that was once so important to us, and in a very different way, still is. You see, what appears to you on the outside, is not always what is fact, what is real. Sometimes, to keep from being a frustrated, depressing  mess, we have to hide. Sometimes, we have to be fake. In a world where so much is fake, it shouldn't be hard, but it is. Its hard to hide from what you want to show, hard to not allow yourself to be swallowed by the pain. And so we learn to cope, and it goes something like this: 
                   You see us smiling. What you don't see is that we are screaming behind that smile . You see us go on with  everything.....work...... groceries..... life in general. What you don't see is that it takes every ounce of energy we have just to breathe. You see us alone with our thoughts. What you don't see is us talking to them.  You see us say "I am fine". What you don't see is the huge hole in our hearts that can not be filled by this life. You see us and think "they're back to normal".  What you don't see is that there is no normal for us anymore. You see us and think , "Oh my, I hope this never happens to me", what you don't see is that as much as we long for you to understand us.... We hope this never happens to you either.   You see us joking and laughing with others and think they must be getting over what has happened.  What you don't see is that we can never forget, nor would we want to, you DON'T get over the loss of a child. You see us sad and don't know what to say so you keep going. What you don't see is all we really want is for you to GIVE us a hug and be there for us and CRY with us and LISTEN to us talk about our little angels. You see that life goes on. What you don't see is, on January 13, 2011, the life we had before that day will never be the same . You see that we are strong...... do not be deceived. What you don't see is that we are weak and weary; it is only by the strength of God that we can even function without them. Some days we are 6 feet from the edge.   What you see is a mask....a lie.  The mask helps you cope with us and us cope with ourselves. What you don't see is the raw, sometimes unbearable pain. You don't see us being unable to breathe, You don't see our despair. You don't see us screaming and crying to God, begging him for the strength to endure until we are with our sweet babies again.  What you don't see or hear is us longing for the day we see them and hold them in our arms. You don't see or hear us begging him to give us the faith and strength to make it to that day. What you don't see, you could never understand anyway, unless you walk a mile in our shoes........and we hope you never have to. However, what you DO see, is love. Our love for them, even in their deaths. And this...for now will have to be enough.
                 I hear more often that not, that I'm strong. I hear that I'm amazing. I hear that I'm special, and determined...and i may be all of those things, but the truth is, that it's only through amazing love, and amazing strength in our God that I function the way I do. You have to believe in something greater than yourself, and give your life fully to that hope, that prayer, that faith. Its easy to be angry with God, and I know that because I did it too. I cried, and screamed, and lost my mind. I hit rock bottom, and i HATED God. I asked him why i didn't get to hold her, why she never got to feel my kisses. Of course, he didn't answer...because regardless how much we'd like him to, God doesn't grab a cell phone, give you a call, and explain why things are the way they are. He didn't explain to me why he needed my daughter, and he didn't explain to me why, only a year later, he needed another one of my children. He just took. He took what he needed, and he trusted that I'd find faith, and that somehow, I'd understand. I was pretty sure I'd never figure it out, until the night that the boys broke Bella's snow globe. This was something I'd gotten for me just days after she died. And it comforted me. I'd wind it up, and let the music lull me to sleep through many a medicated night. It was my substitute for the daughter I'd never get to hold. (And...truth be told, it was unhealthy.) When it shattered into pieces, the water soaking my floor (and i do mean shattered) I LOST it, and that's probably putting it mildly. I screamed and cried, and hyperventilated, and in true OCD fashion, picked up EVERY last piece of star glitter from the floor of that carpet (i was there for hours) in an effort to make sure none of "her" got left behind. (I know, I know, but you do what you have to do to cope. I still have the stars though, so it wasn't for nothing.) It took that freak out for me to realize that i had to figure out what it was i believed in. And it was that night that i figured out what i needed. From the people in my life, and from the God that i worship. And rather than hating him, and cursing him, i began to thank him. For allowing me to be her mommy. For allowing me to carry her, for the time she was here. And he answered me, in the way that only God can, and made sense of my life, and allowed me to move forward, as I'd been begging to be able to do. And the medicines went away, and i smiled again. And because of that faith, because of what i learned, i know that will happen for me again. I have to believe that.